The ties that bind
by LadyRavenwing
Summary: Starting post season 5 finale. SPOILER ALERT: What will Walter find as he sets out on his quest? And how will Peter and Olivia deal with their reset reality?
1. Prologue

Prologue

**The world that was to be **

It was a strange irony of fate, he thought, how so many things, over and over again, could feel like a déjà vu without being one. Not in the way that it was a reminder of your subconscious or elevated parts of your being, signaling that just this had happened or was happening in one of the countless universes, but something so eerily similar to what he had done before that it felt like a déjà vu all the stronger.

He had been in this place before. It felt so much the same, yet so utterly different. Back then, he had been grasping another boys hand, one that had been reluctant, frightened, confused and feverish, unlike Michael who was holding his hand calmly this very moment and without struggle. It had been another gate too, this one, too, ruptured into the fabric of the layers that separated the worlds, but for another purpose. Now he was overstepping boundaries again, but this time it was to set things right whereas back then, it had been his original sin. His downfall. Good intention paving the road to hell and the beginning of tearing universes apart to save the life that was dearest to him. "I am become death, the destroyer of worlds." He had never been fond of this quote, but it echoed in his head all the more, becoming more and more faint in his mind with every step they took until he left it behind, casting it off like the time they were leaving. 2036.. an invaded world. Left behind as they stepped out of it, like out of a frame. "I am become death…" No, this time he he not become the destroyer. This time, he was the savior. The one that would set it right. The one that would avoid his own fall from grace from happening. Every step they took, every step that took him further away from all he knew and loved…Peter…dear Peter…took him closer to salvation.

He was taking the Child Observer into the future and here, once he had arrived, they would meet future Man, preventing that next step in evolution, preventing the rise of the species that would become the Observers. They would never come to be, he realized as they walked on, the child´s smaller hand reassuring him all the same. Never travel back through time. Never observe… and…he realized with a pang of unjustified self pity…September would never be born. He would not be there to distract Walternate … and without September Peter would survive. His father, undistracted, would find the cure and heal him. Walter himself would see this… and never tear a hole into the worlds…. He had no doubt Peter would still exist in 2015. He had existed beyond all reason before. Erased from time and called back by love. He had no doubt his son would survive another setback of time. "Now I am become death…" No more. No more.

These thoughts fluttered through his mind in mere seconds, the frantic flap of invisible butterfly wings, as if the effect he was causing with his passage was creating an audible, methaphorical echo. But of course that was mere imagination. He had always had a creative mind.

There was light around them, blinding, piercing and he assumed that this was static effect, electric currents and other things that even all his knowledge about physics he had ever studied in his life could not explain. "There are more things between the heavens and the earth…" He only noticed when Michael was turning his face up to him that he had uttered those words aloud. Nobody had ever travelled through a wormhole. At least no normal man. No homo sapien. Apparently light…blinding light like this was what it felt like.

And then it was gone. Switched off as if the world was blinking abruptly back to normal. Nothing else changed. The ground beneath their feed was solid, tarmac he guessed because the imprint on the light did not allow his retina to recover all too quickly. He blinked. Tried to get a first impression of the World that Was To Be. The future. The decisive moment they were here to alter.

They were on a parking lot, and turning around Walter could assess that it was the same place, just a different time. For a moment, as the wormhole closed with a soundless flicker, swiftly and permanently behind them, he found himself blinking at the very spot he had been looking at, giving a last glance over his shoulder before stepping into the tunnel. The very spot he was looking at…it was strange to know that Peter had been standing there a mere moment ago. No,…it was more than 100 years past now, he told himself. He tried to stop his mind from following down that inevitable road…that knowledge that Peter, his boy that he had torn the universes apart for, was dead now. Had died many years past. Hopefully at an old age, surrounded by loved ones, maybe with a smile on his lips after a long, deserved, fulfilled life. A life that had just become a possibility. A life that 2036 had not offered.

He could feel tears well up in his eyes and told himself that right now it was not the time to dig into those thoughts. What kind of scientist was he, if he still treated time like a one-way road? He should know better. Peter was out there, living the life he deserved with the ones he loved and would love. He heaved a sigh. And focused back on the World that Was To Be. A parking lot still it seemed, but the cars looked different. At first glance he would guess that fusion engines were a thing of the past. At least that was something, he thought with a wry smile. He turned slowly, taking in his surroundings. There was a whole new world to explore. He should see that as his reward, but it would be part of his mission of course. To convince. To make Peter´s happiness happen. To prevent the invasion.

A squeeze of his hand pulled him out of his thoughts and he noticed that Michael was still looking at him. When he returned the boy´s glance, for the very first time, Walter Bishoph saw something change in this child´s face. Michael was smiling. It was time to explore…time to meet their fate. Sadly, Walter smiled back, squeezed the boy´s hand a little tighter. "Good then…" he said, his own voice sounding a little shaky. "Let us see if they still make licorice in this place, shall we?"


	2. Chapter 1 - 2167

**Author´s note: **

**Thank to all the ones reading and adding me or this story to their favourite lists so far. :)**

**Almariado: **Thanks a lot for your review. :) Yes, I know, the paradox of Peter not usually being in Olivia´s universe as things look now with the timeline reset and no observers (and thus no September) present is an issue I thought about and I believe I have it tackled in how the story is going to develop in chapters to follow, so bear with me. :)

**Chapter 1 - 2167**

Some things apparently never changed. As he led the boy across the tarmac from where the portal had just closed, Walter could see the small, grey blotches typically left by chewing gum spit out by people inconsiderate of the ugly blotches they would eventually become. Or of other people´s shoes that might prevent the same and put the gums to a more sticky and far more annoying end. Weeds he saw too, at the sidelines of the parking lot, considered it was still such because he could see a tall building ahead of him that had not previously been there while a gush of wind told him that a block of buildings that had protected the other flank of the square was by now gone. Weeds grew everywhere. He could sure do with some them right now, albeit weed of a different kind. That thought and the thought of how ridiculous it would be to get gum stuck under his shoe as his first impression of this future world almost made him chuckle. Almost, but there were other things occupying his mind and he was trying not to think too much. Luckily, it had always been easy for Walter to distract his mind with trivial things and this new place for sure offered enough brand new visual, auditory and olfactory stimulation of the senses to keep him distracted for a while. He clutched Michael´s hand a little tighter as if scared to lose the boy… quite an achievement since so far there was not a single soul around, let alone a crowd that the boy could get lost in.

"How about we make sure where exactly we are first, child?" he asked, his voice more a reassurance for himself than an actual request for a response. The boy had never spoken, probably never would and Walter was not entirely certain he could. It had been one of the questions that Peter had not let him tackle – the question whether the boy actually had vocal cords and if now, why they had eventually become rudimentary or obsolete in the course of admittedly not too lengthy evolution of a mere couple of hundred years. Peter…

So far there was no way for them to ascertain that the portal had done its purpose, other than the fact that he had helped create it which, some times of his life, would have been proof enough for him, but he knew they would have to make sure. Back then when they had still been working on Fringe cases and when people from the alternate universe had been tossed into theirs at random he had asked simple questions to make sure it was one of the two they knew shared the same features in most respects: What year is it? - 2010ish. Who is the president? - Obama. However, seeing that the clothes they were wearing were probably a few too many decades behind the latest fashion and bound to make them look rather out of place already, these two questions would not only naturally have changed the possibly replies..they would also quite more likely than not make an old man and a bald, silent boy look all the more weird and out of place. Another way then he said, not keeping in mind the boy had not followed his train of thought, yet he had rarely felt this focused. "Let´s see if we can find out some more about this place." Again, speaking to the boy just as much as to himself. "Keep your eyes open, boy. Newspapers…unless they finally found better ways than this dreadful waste of resources…anything to make sure this is the right place as I assume it is."

There was noise ahead, different from the noise of 2036 or that of up to 2015, but noise that promised people. And traffic. They reached the end of the lot and he led the boy past the side of the "recently" erected building. This part had been a little away from the main buzz of the city. Now it wasn´t any more, because as he turned the corner, he found himself at the sidelines of a main road, three lanes each direction with cars zooming past with the smell of the fumes they had exhaled in the past. Leaner cars, different design and, he could tell they were safer probably, carrying passengers, no drivers. He stopped, leaning against the corner of the building, but more to take in this new world than to hide. He could feel excitement bounce in his chest, the excitement of a scientist granted a glimpse into the future, but it was to be more than a glimpse. It was going to be home, a thought he was still trying to push aside. "Ha." His own voice sounded somewhat off. "And there I hoped we would eventually overcome fusion engines." Of course they hadn´t. The timeline the world was set on and that was to eventually create the Observers would later become so polluted that they would invade the past. Would. Would not. Not if he had to weigh in on the issue.

He let his eyes trace across the road, up the facades of buildings. More smooth metals even than in the past, more windows, but the air, it seemed, a little worse. New York City had not been known for its fresh air in one of his pasts either, but this was something he would have to get used to. He let his gaze move further, halted at a shop front that had advertising in hologram form. A mannequin taking on the shape of a woman walking by to look just like her in a dress displayed in the window. On the next corner something that looked like an electronic docking station because he could observe a man walk past and move on after seconds and after checking what was on the big screen next to it. Squinting, he could make out lines. Letters. "Let´s have a look at this." he said, giving the boy another reassuring smile. He wasn´t sure whether or not it would be a smart idea to just strut out into the street and across it to pay a visit to what he believed was the 22nd century´s version of a newspaper stand, but apparently too futuristic looking clothes existed only in the minds of science fiction authors. They might look a bit eccentric at best.

Leading Michael with him he joined a smaller group of people, commuters most of them he guessed, that were walking towards the intersection from which they crossed over to the other side of the road. Traffic lights had altered their design just like cars had, but their function remained the same. A they walked, Walter couldn´t help but direct sideward glances at these people. He did not know what he had expected, but there were no more bald people than back in 2036. Or rather…less. These people looked normal, even though he believed to see less receding hairlines or imperfect facial features, less limping and other signs of fragility. He could see nobody wearing glasses. Maybe, until science had taken them on a darker road, future man had started to master at least some of the problems of the past.

The man next to the big screen connected to unknown technical equipment did indeed turn out to be a newspaper seller, because he eyed Walter with the same don´t –buy-don´t-read look that was probably timeless. "Can I help you, Sir?" he asked, not impolitely but with a twang that either labeled him as a foreigner or merely meant that the English language had kept sucking up other influences and kept on evolving like the rest of the world and mankind. "Yes. I…" Walter began before noticing that he had no idea what to even do. Probably there was some kind of a device needed to transfer today´s "newspaper" issue to a reader of some kind and for sure that only happened in exchange for payment. The first of those he didn´t have, the latter he did. Not much of it, but this plan had been planned in detail and even though they had switched plans briefly before, Walter thanked whatever god he believed was out there for the fact that he had left what he would need in the pocket of his coat. "Oh I…I left my device at home I am afraid." Looking around he saw another "vendor" not too far off and a man paying to read the screen a little aside from the road. He reached into his pocket and fished out a small metal plate, roughly the size of a credit card but as he knew with an underside that made use of technology unheard of in 2015 and that served as data storage. The man nodded and swiped the tag before giving it back to him and pointing at one of several side screens, dark, but it flashed to life when they stepped further. Walter could feel his heart beating.

Newspapers might be a thing of the past, but the design of columns hadn´t much changed. The images were moving now, much like in that newspaper in the Harry Potter books he thought with mild amusement. Moving and with added audio files it seemed but he did not try those. English had evolved, picking up a few new words it seemed, many of them with Spanish roots which only made sense considering the demographic changes that had been apparent in his earlier past, but it was understandable. What he believed to be the front page was the picture of a woman, rather good looking despite a stern, focused face, brown hair without a hint of grey and thus probably dyed because she had to be in her mid fifties. She was wearing what he believed to be formal clothing, a sort of blouse of some whiteish colour, a women´s suit jacket over it, her hair tucked behind her ears as she smiled thinly into the camera. A face that belonged to a person he immediately classified as intelligent and slightly restrained. The headline read. "President-elect to move into White House". And beneath that: "Nation divided on Vasquez´ stance on A.H.A." Walter didn´t take the time to read. Yet. His eyes moved up the screen and found what he had been looking for. A date.

"January 18, 2167."


	3. Chapter 2 - Novelties

_Author´s note(s)_

_This chapter will start to introduce one of the side plots of this fanfic which will get involved with the _

_main plot eventually. I am trying to draw a realistic image of this new time and I believe details about society and politics are essential here. :) Hope it all makes sense. As for the other canon characters… we will see more of them eventually, all in due time, some open questions remaining for now._

Muggleindenial28: Thank you. I have quite a few ideas ready yet, hope you´ll stay on board and keep enjoying the ride. :)

TiaKisu: I´m really glad you like my portrayal of Walter, he´s an interesting character to write with all his little quirks. There is definitely going to be more of that once these two settled in this new time.

**Chapter 2**

_**Novelties**_

"_And I realized that there's a big difference between deciding to leave and knowing where to go."__  
__―__Robyn Schneider__,__The Beginning of Everything_

„…_as president-elect Silvia Vasques is expected to arrive in Washington today for her last official meeting with still president Daniel Harper, discussions rise again, in particular with regards to Vasques´ stance on the A.H.A, the Act for Human Advancement, president Harper´s signature legislature, passed in Congress two year back that his successor has vowed to repeal. With us this morning are Professor William Henderson, president of the human engineering faculty of Harvard and Gillian Ryan, editor of the New Science Magazine…"_

"Why do you do that yourself, hon, listening to those idiots ramble their heads off?"

Silvia Vasques smiled. Without having to turn she could tell there was likely a somewhat amused, somewhat annoyed smile on her husband´s face. He had just entered the room, was probably leaning against the doorframe, probably with his tie still undone, waiting for her to tie a good knot. Some things, it was reassuring to know, never changed.

"I like knowing what they discuss about. I like being prepared."

Steven chuckled. "This is gossip level and bogus science, they´re nowhere near a real intellectual discussion on this. They leave out essentials."

"True that, but they´re rather close to a significant percentage of the America people and I like being able to dismantle the arguments that are made the people vote against me." She turned to face him, finding her assumption on his stance and level of progress in getting dressed pretty much accurate. Only his smile clearly looked more benevolent to her than it looked irked against the _NFN Morning Show. _"Audacious thing they call themselves a news channel." He remarked, shooting another glance at the screen while shrugging down the sleeves of his suit jacket, adjusting his cuff links. "You look fabulous, Madam Almost President."

She stepped towards him, still smiling, starting to do his tie.

"…_has to be considered that the United States have been facing a demographic change of a sort that can hardly be matched with any so far in history…"_ Henderson´s voice drifted over from the flat screen. "_she was running on a platform mostly to turn back the clocks into the 20__th__ century. Repealing the A.H.A is dangerous, I said it before and I will say it again."_ Applause from the ranks of the audience and Silvia caught another clearly annoyed glance from her husband who was peeking at the screen past her shoulder. Not really a glance, more a tightening of his features, subtle, but she knew him so well. "You can´t change those hotheads," she reminded him in her calm voice. "let them ramble, I have majorities behind me that he lost, the little man is just mad that´s all." "You´re clearly the better politician of the two of us," he told her with a sigh. "I´m glad I never have to endure people of the like of him for long, I can´t see why you would volunteer to do a thing such as that." There was some truth in his voice, but humour a well. When it came to what she wanted, what she stood for, her ambitions, Steven had been with her every step of the way, backing her up, supporting her, listening to her, despising her enemies in and outside the political arena in a way that was typical for his temper, her valve for steam that she contained so well.

"…_she has to ask herself what kind of a role model she can even be for the United States in these times. She may have a clear majority in the electorate, but that is due to mere false education. I ask you, Gill, will you sleep well at night knowing you are not giving your children the best possible future, the best possible start into this modern world? Thinking that it could be any other way these days is not just ignorant it´s…"_

"Enough of that." Steven gave a curt gesture that was caught by the tech and the screen faded to black. Silvia nodded, reached for the ends of his tie and started to tie a knot. "You do know you need to learn doing this on your own very soon." she said, but not without a smile. "I can´t exactly be doing this in front of foreign dignitaries or with the cameras running."

oooooooooooooooo

New York had changed, in some ways subtle, more rapidly in others Walter noticed from his seat in the back of the taxi cab. 22nd century´s version of those bore a lighter shade of yellow and an engine that had the soft humming of a predator animal and made its early 21st century counterpart sound like unbearable rattle, but other than that, it seemed not many things about cabs had changed. They had seen driverless cars earlier, for taxis, apparently, this wasn´t the case. He didn´t ask why of course.

The taxi driver, a young man he guessed had to be a few years younger than Peter was one of the chatty sort, apparently that never changed, either. Taxi drivers as he remembered them had only come in two kinds: sullen and monosyllabic or chatty and eager to spill the story of their lives to any stranger that might show an inkling of interest. This one clearly belonged into the second group, but Walter didn't mind. After all, that gave him the opportunity to get more of an insight into what had happened in the last one and a half centuries. Apparently, the States, as they had done quite a few times in the past, had once more expanded, for the young taxi driver claimed to be "a US citizen, born and bred" yet mentioned his birth place was Pinar del Rio, Cuba. It would be interesting, Walter had thought at that, to count the stars on the stars and stripes. Was it 51 now? More? He had almost chuckled at the marginally funny thought that the little patch of blue might have become rather crowded in the last 155 years.

For another, the buildings that he knew from 2012 were partly still intact, partly renovated, new facades to what had become "historic", the oldest patch the taxi driver told him (apparently believing Walter to be some tourist that had never been to the Big Apple, probably an assumption drawn by Walters interest and his slightly out of place clothes) being the area around the One World Trade Centre, a cluster of skyscrapers, modernized about 20 years ago but their outer design left exactly as it had been designed in the 2010s.

"Gonna take a shortcut through the Quarters if you don´t mind, Sir" the driver announced, interrupting a monologue about buildings and names that mostly woke no memory in Walter. He met the young man´s eyes in the rear mirror and nodded and a moment later, the cab turned right. "It´s faster you know," he said in a tone that almost sounded apologetic. "thought you guys seem okay and might not mind. Think it´s only fair to go for shorter routes, can save you some credits after all, right?"

The Quarter as he had called it, turned out to be a rather rundown district of what had once been upper Manhattan. Houses that looked like they needed fresh paint at least and an overhaul at most, a few of the windows broken and patched up with wood panels and thick foil, the streets littered in places and all in all, the entire neighbourhood looking as if it was a good century behind. No holographic advertising, no driverless cars and Walter caught himself shifting in his seat a little nervously when they had to halt in front of some traffic lights, immediately drawing the attention of a gang of youths lingering near one of the doorways. "Sad spot that." The driver said, again possibly breaking into a monologue while Walter tossed a glance to the side, noticing that it had been Michael that had drawn the kids´ attention. He had taken off his hood and was sitting close to the window, one of his pale hands pressed to the glass, looking outside with an observant, calm look in his eyes that the youths might have interpreted as provocative. But they kept their distance and didn´t come any closer, the looks they cast at the car though were unveiled disdain.

"I grew up round here," the driver trailed on. "Dreaming the good old American Dream you know. For me it was science. I read the old masters if you will when I was a boy of .. ten I think. Hawking and people like that. Always found if fascinating and had a few ideas of my own with regards to String Theory…" Walter felt himself scowl. "That sounds like you´re a bright young man," he said. "How come you never made use of that? Gone to a good university? I can quite understand a love for science, I am a scientist myself." He felt a smile curl around his lip, the strangeness and forlornness of this new era forgotten for a few seconds. To his surprise, the young man laughed. "That´s kind of you, Sir, really is," he said, turning left at the end of the road and right into what had once... and the street signs affirmed it had remained that way… been Broad Street. "but no chance to get anywhere near a good programme, not with a mere IQ of 135." He said this as if this went without saying, a no brainer and went on without pause, not giving Walter any moment to interfere with incredulousness. "..so here we go Sir. If you want a good place to stay that´s clean, safe, no trouble but you guys okay with normal standard instead of luxuries I´d suggest the one over there, a few streets down the road." He pointed ahead, unaware of the fact that at least one of his customers was wondering what he had just heard, trying to make sense of it. "Y…yes," Walter said belatedly as he caught a questioning look through the mirror. "I believe that will be fine, thank you." There was a lot going on in his mind right now, so many question and new impressions that he would need a little time to sort it all through, before planning what to do next. He had put a plan together but that had been in another time…another life it seemed, so far from here. They would come here and look for familiar places, Harvard for instance or the science faculty of New York University. There were several ways to prove their being from the past. They were carrying it in themselves, the boy that was, his very DNA a proof for what he was, what humanity was headed at so far, a path that needed to be avoided at all costs.

The cab driver stopped in front of the hotel he had pointed at. Its façade didn´t exactly look shabby but one could tell that it was the kind of place where the rich and famous preferred to stay. Budget. Clean and simple. The man turned in his seat, looked at them. "I´d let the boy put the hoody up if you know what I´m saying," he said, his voice a bit less chatty and more serious right now. "You know things have been tense. I don´t have any prejudices there but…you know how people can be." He glanced out of the window. "You should stay here for the night." He said. "it´s a good place but they won´t ask questions." He gave Michael a short look and Walter realized that the cab driver had never really looked at the boy. He had been communicative and friendly but had hardly ever given the boy as much as a glance. All of a sudden that seemed a bit odd. "Thank you," Walter muttered and handed his cash card over to the man who scanned it and handed it back.

They got out of the car and the cab drove off, engine softly purring, quickly vanishing in the rather lazy stream of occasional cars. Not a very busy place, but it seemed safe. _They won´t ask questions…_ For some reason that prospect did not seem calming to Walter in the least…


	4. Chapter 3 - Strawberry shakes

_Author´s note: _

_Sorry for making you guys wait. I have been quite busy and then was… mildly sidetracked by another TV show which doesn´t mean I forgot about this one as you can see. :) I am merely feeling both very busy and creative into a few different directions these days. _

_**Almariado: **_

Describing that new future society is I think one of the perks of writing this fanfic. I like being detailedand getting to the bottom of things in my writing. I have a few ideas concerning ethic and politics already that will eventually find their way in here and I hope you´ll like it. :) Thanks for the review.

_**TiaKisu:**_

Such detailed reviews, thanks so much. :) Well, there might be some more in store on that, a little forshadowing on what their mission might yet turn out to be. ;) As for the side plots: There will be a few side characters, not sure yet how many, not major characters but characters that add depth to the story in that they explain the society of that time to the reader that they live in but that Walter and Michael are mere observers to. One of them is going to be Silvia Vasquez who as you will see and was mildly hinted at, represents a certain kind of group I will have a closer look at…oh well, you´ll see. :)

**Chapter 3**

**Strawberry shakes**

"_Now he has departed from this strange world a little ahead of me. That means nothing. People like us, who believe in physics, know that the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion."__  
__―__Albert Einstein_

The hotel turned out to be everything the cab driver had said it would be, even though it was a little more fancy than Walter would have expected. There was no luxury, but the place looked clean and better than quite a few hotels he had been to in Manhattan in his life, the room they rented was rather spacious and nobody asked questions about their clothes or about Michael, not even about the fact that there was no luggage.

Luggage… Walter noticed he had not even thought of that on this strange trip to a new world that he had planned so painstakingly only to abandon it and then quickly decide to go after all. He was provided with the right medium for money transfer – Donald had seen to that – but other than that, the only things they had with them were the clothes they were wearing. Some part of his brain, the sane part, told him that he would have to go soon and buy clothes. Clothes that fitted the time for both him and the boy before they ventured any further, before they… well, there were some plans he did have after all. Plans that him and Donald had worked on and then the things he had prepared himself. A few simple guidelines. Mantras almost that he would stick to, one liners to keep him focused and grounded in reality when chaos threatened to take over. It was a simple trick that he had learned a long time ago in long nights of solitude on the brink of insanity, alone back in St Claire´s. One liners. Little tunes. _Row, row, row the boat…._ Mantra 1: Observe and get settled, but do not stay in New York. No time. Mantra 2: Travel to Norway and make contact with authorities. Mantra 3: Get a voice. Get heard.

Three mantras. Easy to remember, simple and focused. _Row, row, row the boat…_

Yet there were many things threatening to upset the order. Questions. Curiosity. Fear. Another group of three, threatening to become a danger to the mantras. Questions about whether he could already make sure that their plan might succeed. Because it already had succeeded. Walter was certain there were ways to find out how the past had rolled out after he had left… Not world politics or future wars as interesting as these might be to research but… No.

"Stay focused, Walter." Sitting at the end of his bed in that hotel room his own voice sounded sharp to him, and had a tone to it that would have made Peter raise his head. ´Walter? ´He could almost hear the younger man´s voice in his head, the word tilting up in question at the end, a slight tone of warning coming with it. ´Are you all right?´ As he started to pace the hotel room, Walter was sure he was not. But then again what did he expect? He was as all-right as could be. He was as okay as a father could be that had severed all his bonds to save his child. He shook his head, knowing this was the moment where he must finish thinking about it or his mind would end in a loop that he might not escape from for a few hours. He looked towards the window. The boy, Michael, was sat on a chair that was solid but slightly worn with use, that was placed under the window and made the child´s silhouette stand out darkly.

Walter smiled a sad smile. "Do you need some rest?" he asked. "We should…maybe get some rest and then buy a few things. We will… we will need…clothes. And then plane tickets. Something to read maybe. History books." His voice sounded hasty. He was sorting his thoughts and it was both easy and hard. He could not completely make out the boy´s features with the light right behind him, but he suddenly felt strangely lost. There were usually people around to help him complete and sort his thoughts, finish them, urge them. He was a genius and he knew it, but it was good to have people around that helped you there. Peter. Astrid. Strange how he remembered her name with such clarity now that he knew he would never see her again. It nearly took his breath. He opened his mouth again. Closed it. "…and…maybe we should first….we will need food too. Do you think they still have diners? With strawberry milkshake?" he could feel himself slipping away into a place in his mind, one that he was usually staying clear of because he had learned to handle it. And others had helped. But now? He sat down heavily at the end of the bed again, lost. How was he even supposed to manage this? He hadn´t been here for even half a day and things were already so overwhelming. Alone. Just him and the boy and the weight of the world on his shoulders. On his…of all people.

He had lowered his eyes and didn´t notice the boy had gotten to his feet and silently walked closer. He only looked up when he felt a small hand on his shoulder, looked up and met that strangely alien face, these strangely ageless eyes. And there was the smallest of smiles. And strangely, it got him back from that dark place that had begun to lurk on the corner of his overtaxed mind. Just like it had happened before when this boy had given him courage so it was now. Michael never spoke, just almost-smiled and it got him back from the distractions, back to the mantras, back from the fear and back to the courage that could barely find on his own.

"Thank you." he said, his voice almost a whisper but heavy with gratitude. Michael didn´t even so much as nod in acknowledgement, he just looked at him a second longer, then walked back to the window and started to look out at the backyards so many years in the future of the backyards Walter used to know.

"I got you one of these." Walter had a large happy smile on his face when he pulled a bright blue sweater from one of the bags that had "New York Speed Hawks" written over it in yellow, the flashy letters against the backdrop of a stylized hawk, wings spread, talons outstretched like a bald eagle in the attempt to catch some fish. It looked rather pretty. "I saw several kids with this kind of gear, I am sure you will not look any different than them in this. It´s the local team for some new game apparently, I could not quite catch all of the rules yet, but I saw some of it on the screens, it seems to be some mix of hockey and …oh I do not know boy, you´ll blend right in."

Shopping had never really been one of Walter´s favourites exactly. Not clothes shopping, not with a shopping list, but this had felt surprisingly normal and he had enjoyed it just for that, more than he thought he would. After a small nap (because he had felt dreadfully tired and now, to be honest, was tired again, even more so) he had caught a subway (yes there were still subways but newer, faster, so much faster) downtown and found a few stores. He had bought what they needed. A pair of pants for each. Jeans apparently was no longer fashionable, most people wore something that looked like normal fabric but was both self cleaning and had some built in air conditioning. Intelligent fabric – quite fascinating. He had also bought a few shirts and pullovers and other smaller items. And two caps for Michael. It was January after all, a boy with a woolen (or whatever the material was made of exactly) hat would not make anyone too suspicious.

It was funny how something as normal as buying a few clothes could make one feel more rooted in a strange place, but it had worked. For now it had. Walter was used to his mind working in strange ways and for now he just accepted that it had put him in a good mood. Plotting, planning, kicking off the adventure. There was no doubt that darker thoughts would return, quite likely with the fading of the daylight if he happened to get insomniac tonight, but he had learned to make the best out of a good moment and enjoy it, before it was over.

"And you wouldn´t believe it, Michael" but they still do sell strawberry milskhake. Not quite as I know it, but it tastes… somewhat similar." He had lightly asked for just that in a place that looked agreeably like a diner, to the bewildered amusement of the clerk who had asked him whether he was joking and whether he was intending to steal any more of his time with that. Real strawberries, really? What time was he from? How very ironic. Walter blinked a few times. The strange new speed of that strange new underground train was still giving him vertigo. It had ever since he had gotten off it near the stores if he remembered correctly.

"Artificial by the looks of it, because these people have managed to drive strawberries into extinction," and it occurred to him it was probably not just the strawberries, but that was what mattered right now. "would you believe that?" He placed a second cup on the small table near the window with a second milkshake he had brought for the boy. "And it is made based on some kind of soy milk I believe." He continuedIt felt good to talk about random things. It kept him grounded and that for a first day in this strange new world was not a bad thing. Throw out an anchor first and then, when you´re well rooted in that reality, venture forward.

Another, stronger wave of vertigo and he wanted to sit down. "Drink it, it´s not too bad." he said, then paused, watching the boy inspect the drink before he remembered. "Oh dear…I completely forgot to get us something to eat. I should…" What was happening to him? As he stood, he could feel the world spinning. Was there something such as a time lag? Whatever it was had been lingering for a few hours already and maybe it hadn´t been the underground after all. No… this was….

And then, all of a sudden, the room was shifting dangerously to one side and the last thing Walter felt before he hit the ground was sickness creeping up his throat, coming over him like a wave. Then he fainted.


	5. Chapter 4 - White tulips

_Author´s note: _

_In this chapter we´ll move back in time for a moment, not really a flashback at all, I consider time being unlinear here so this could as well be happening at the same time a what happens to Walter and Michael. If that makes any sense. _

**Almariado: **

No fear, I haven´t abandoned it. :) I am just really busy these days. :-/

And I haven´t forgotten about the paradox either. I´ll solve it bit by bit. So here we go with Peter and Olivia. Hope you like it. :) There will btw be some switching back and forth from now on.

**Tia Kisu: **

Oy, wow, thanks for so much detail :)

I totally see your point about dialogue and the problem of descriptions possibly becoming to lengthy. I consider this somewhat of a weakness of my own writing which is why I am really glad you think it works here. :)

Yep. I am trying to give Walter a bit of psychological edge there. He was portrayed as a very ambivalent and unique character in the show which is something I always liked about him and which is something I am trying to capture with these little antics.

**Chapter 4**

**White tulips**

_Memory is deceptive because it is coloured by today´s events" (Albert Einstein)_

„I think that I would be happy to stay here for the rest of my life."

His voice sounded utterly content, a lazy undertone that told her Peter was entirely relaxed in a way she yet had to get used to. She turned towards him, looking across her shoulder to see him shield his face from the sun with a hand, his head propped against her hips. Olivia smiled. Not too far from them, just at the corner of her vision, Etta was crouched on the field, blowing the seeds off a dandelion with her chubby cheeks, focused entirely on that very serious task. The seeds took flight in the afternoon sun, joining the occasional bumblebees to drift into the warm evening air. It was such a peaceful moment and yet… beneath this peaceful quiet only disturbed by the laughter of children somewhere, there was… something. She couldn´t quite put her finger on it but it was there. Like something softly plucking a string inside her soul, making her sixth sense hum softly. And she realised the sound it caused was slightly off with this moment´s peace. Maybe even slightly off with reality, strange as this sounded. "We should probably get her home soon." It was an almost out of place thing to say but put her bewilderment at the sudden feeling into words. It was the most beautiful of afternoons and her strange gut feeling made no sense. But probably her words did, seeing that Etta was a little girl and little girls needed lots of sleep. "Get her into a bath which is never easy." she added, laughing a little, her eyes darting back at the book she had been reading, her own laughter surprising her. But then again, the afternoon had been perfect. Why linger over some strange feeling of déjà vu that made no sense at all? She shook the feeling off and it fell away from her, giving room to happiness again.

Peter did not seem to have noticed her momentary uneasiness. Olivia could feel the weight on her hip shifting, then gone when he rose into a sitting position, groaning slightly as he did so. "I nominate you for that one," he said, "Etta. It´s time to go." He waved her over, then got to his feet. "Come on, kiddo, it´s time to go home." Their daughter looked up at once. Olivia smiled. The girl adored her father, it was always so heartwarming to watch the two of them, just like now as he got up, walked a few steps and then knelt on the grass, warm from the sun spreading his arms as Etta, the maimed flowers in her little fist, ran towards him, games and skipping and songs forgotten. Even though Olivia could not see his face right now, she knew Peter was smiling. She focused on her book again, but what she had been able to do without difficulty for most of the afternoon was suddenly an impossible task. She could see their little girl run towards her father who had his arms spread, waiting to swoop her up, swirl her around which would make her giggle in childlike delight. And as Etta´s small feet made their way across the green there it was again. That...gut feeling. Something would happen. Something. Now. In this moment. And it made no sense and it came from nowhere but she had the sudden feeling that it would happen right before Etta would reach her father. It was a strong feeling of déjà vu, sudden, unexpected and completely unreasonable. It made her pause in her reading.

Giggling. And the moment was broken. Peter swooped the girl up in his arms, tossed her up a little, playfully, making Etta laugh. As sudden as it had come, the moment was gone, leaving a strange kind of dull feeling, but peace was restored. Just a déjà vu, her mind tricking her somehow. The world was fine. Nothing had happened. Of course it hadn´t.

"No call from Broyles all weekend. We should really make a red circle around today in the calendar. It´s a very special day." Peter´s cheerfulness was refreshing, something she had not seen too often when they had met, when he had still been the unknown, handsome but slightly dangerous seeming guy, always rather grumpy, always sarcastic but with a dry humour that she had liked instantly. Peter these days was more cheerful, easier to laugh. Life had become a little easier yet more precious, maybe that was what having children did to you. His smale was contagious.

"Don´t say that too loudly, you might tempt fate." Olivia said, causing him to chuckle. But he was right. There had been countless occasions when, in the middle of a weekend they had been summoned to investigate on a new case. These days that still happened, but the frequency of Fringe cases had decreased since they had severed the bridge to the alternate universe. Things had stabilized since then. In many ways. And less work didn´t make them jobless, it merely allowed them more family time, such as today. It was weird to adjust to that but they were doing just fine.

Etta had been busy humming one of her favourite song to the plush bunny she carried pretty much everywhere and for a moment she had been oblivious to the world outside, sleepy from a day full of playing and lazing in the sun. That was to change, Olivia thought. In 3…2…1…

"Daddy, daddy, can we get ice cream?"

The little voice nearly tripped in excitement as she pressed her little nose flat against the window.

"Sweety you already had ice cream earlier, you´ll get stomach cramps." Olivia replied, tossing a smile into the rear mirror.

"I promise I won´t." Child´s logic. The nose remained pressed against the glass, the girl´s eye moved to meet her mother´s.

"How about I read you something later?" Peter suggested to distract her. "I want to know how the story of Timmy the Tabby cat goes on. I reaaally can´t wait. Can we go home, please Etta Ice cream tomorrow?"

It was so easy to trick the girl that way. Trick her into thinking her father really cared for the story when what he really cared for was to avoid his daughter to have stomach pains and when all he mostly cared for was reading to her, spending time. Being a father. Part of Olivia had always believed he would make a wonderful father one day. It was wonderful to see that confirmed each and every day now. She moved a hand, placed it on his right knee and smiled. He returned the smile and gave her a brief look before focusing on the street again.

"What did Walter say he wanted to do today?" he asked.

"I think he´s probably still in the lab. We should pick him up and see if he wants to have dinner with us."

"Call him at home first, he might be there as well. It´s Sunday after all.

"Oh as if I didn´t know…"

Walter had been living alone ever since they had bought that nice little house on the outskirts of Boston shortly before Etta came along. A very stereotypical house which could have been taken out of a brochure advertising the classical American dream. A garden, a picked fence, a swing near the front porch. Walter was always welcome of course, especially since it was evident that living alone was not that much his thing. He would be glad to join him.

"He doesn´t answer the phone." Olivia said after letting it ring for over a minute. "Let´s make a detour past the lab."

But Walter wasn´t at the lab and nobody around could tell them when he had left or if he had been in there. Probably he had, but earlier this morning. Had come in but probably left at some point. "I am sure he´ll just be out for a walk and probably drop by anyways later tonight." There was worry in Peters´s voice that he tried to hide pretty well when he unlocked their front door. "Walter?" Nothing.

"Well, he can´t be far. Come on in you little rascal," he added, picking up Etta to dramatically swoop her over the threshold. "We need to get you into the bathtub." He placed her down and Olivia took the girl´s hand. "I bet I can race you." she said and pretended to be running as fast as she could. The trick caught on and with a squeal, Etta dashed up the stairs with her.

"I´ll get you some really fluffy towels, all right sweety?" Olivia told her when they had reached the bathroom. "You wanna fetch your little ship?"

"Fluffy." she insisted. "I wanna take Fluffy."

"Oh, I don´t think that would be too good on his fur, but if fluffy wants a bath, I can give him a ride in the washing machine." Olivia crouched down before the child and gently picked the plush toy from her arms.

Etta clutched the plush bunny a little more tightly to her chest. "He says he gets sick in there."

Olivia had to suppress a chuckle. "I´ll take good care of that, okay? Now off you go, let some water into the tub, will you?"

She walked back out onto the corridor and passed the staircase on her way to Etta´s room. Again her sixth sense perked up. Downstairs, it was silent. Following her instinct this time and to the sound of Etta´s giggles as she heard water splashed into the bathtub, she slowly walked down the stairs. Peter was standing there, his back to her, a stack of mail on the counter near the living room entrance, holding something in his hand, not even moving.

"Peter? What is it?" Peter didn´t move, seemed deep in thought. Then it was as if he snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

He turned, looked at her, she saw a slight frown on his face. "Yeah…yeah, I just…it´s nothing."

She had known him for a while and wasn´t sure he was being honest there but for now, Olivia chose to accept it. She walked closer, watching him carefully. Upstairs there was still soft singing and the splashing of water. "What is it?" This time her words were directed at something that he was holding in his hands. An envelope and a piece of white paper or cardboard. He held it up for her to see. It was a rudimentary sketch of a white tulip.


	6. Chapter 5 - Virus

_Author´s note: _

_I am sorry for letting you guys wait but here we go, next chapter. Happy Easter everyone. :-)_

**Almariado: **

Yes, it was indeed meant as a sneak peak there, but there will be more. Well on that scene with the sixth sense, it really appear to me like there was something subtle going on . I love picking up on little details like that. And yes, the wormhole idea very well describes the image I have of these plotlines happening "at the same time."

Don´t feel bad at all, really, I didn´t feel rushed. I love receiving reviews, especially when people take as much time and give some good, constructive feeback and share thoughts. :) And yes, as you saw I won´t be able to post super fast, even though right now I already got the next chapter mapped out in my mind.

**TiaKisu**

Absolutely. I really liked the peacefulness of that final scene on the show but had a feeling there was more to it so it made perfect sense to bring that in. :) Thanks for your review, dear.

**Badkidoh:**

Thank you. :-) I hope you´ll keep reading.

**Chapter 5**

**Virus**

With epidemics, people have been standing on the shore, waiting for the gusher to hit the ocean. But to prevent epidemics, you have to look at the various little sources that feed into the river. (Nathan Wolfe)

A blinding light was the first thing he saw, right overhead, overwhelming his optic nerve and sending a sharp pain right into his temples, making him groan. But that was just a moment, a snippet of consciousness, barely long enough to sort in where he was, whether that light was the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel or something else entirely. Then: Nothing. And when he next woke, things were less blinding, but no less foreign.

When had been the last time he had been in a hospital, Walter wondered? It must have been years. He had always been in rather good health – physically at least, maybe that had been mother nature´s way to make up for his occasional mental inadequacies. The place he found himself in now, even though it was years into the future of what these places had been like last in his most recent memory, it was unmistakable where he was: A hospital. White walls and he could tell there was a needle attached to his hand, jammed under his skin and wired to a transparent bottle that probably held an ordinary saline solution, unless medicine had been dramatically revolutionized. He remembered no dreams, he dimly remembered murmuring things though. What had it been? _I am a scientist_! And _Where is Michael? _Which made him think_…_where was the boy? That thought brought a sudden panic.

"Michael?" His voice sounded like a croak, his lips were dry and when he tried to push himself up in the hospital bed (the design of those hadn´t changed too much, that much was for sure), he was rewarded with an unpleasant wave of dizziness and an angry BEEP! from the machine that he now saw he was hooked onto. Seconds later, for obviously he was being monitored, the door opened and a man, probably in his late thirties with full dark brown hair and probably of partly Asian descent entered, tossed him a look and a thin but honest looking smile.

"You´re awake." he stated the obvious in a rather cheerful yet professionally calm voice. "How do you feel, Sir?"

Walter had never liked these kinds of questions and whatever response he could give to any kind of doctors was bound to sound just a tad mistrustful. You never knew what kind of quack you were confronted with after all. He opened his mouth and closed it again as the doctor approached the bed and checked the instruments next to it. "Where is Michael?" Walter asked then, deciding that the question about his own wellbeing was secondary and that he was a little mad at himself. What had happened? Had time travel affected him that way? It had never had that effect on Donald. Did that mean the boy was all right?

The doctor tossed him another glance. "Is that the name of the boy who was with you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow enquiringly. "He is doing all right. He doesn´t speak though." There was more but the doctor didn´t say it and the man´s face was hard to read. Walter nodded. "Where is he?"

"He´s right outside, we got him downstairs to the cafeteria, he seemed hungry." The doctor stepped next to him and reached for his hand, Walter tried to evade the grasp but at a bewildered look of the younger man made him stop himself. Old habits died hard…

"You are likely to experience dizziness, fatigue…probably you´ll feel nauseous for a couple of hours. It´ll be best to keep you here for another two or three days, Mr…." He drawled the last word indicating he expected Walter to fill in his blanks.

"Bishop." Walter said, his voice still sounding weak, but steadying. "Walter Bishop. What happened to me?"

"What do you remember?" the doctor asked instead of giving the straight forward reply doctors so liked to evade, reaching for something that he had been carrying and that must be some variation of a tablet computer.

"I remember fainting." Walter could tell that his impatience was seeping into his words. "Why am I here?"

Another glance from the doctor. "The boy, Michael, alerted the hotel management and they called an ambulance. You were unconscious for a while, briefly came by during the exam then passed out again." Walter tried to piece things together in his mind but the doctor kept talking. Walter randomly noticed the name tag which told him his same was Singh. Dr. No first name. Just Sing which confirmed the slight Asian looks he had earlier guessed just as randomly. "You were lucky the boy was there." The younger man´s eyes clearly showed he had a whole number of questions none of which he´d likely ask if he was as professional as he seemed. "You caught a virus, Mr Bishop, a pretty nasty one, but not life threatening. We ran a few checks in our lab and could isolate it." He shook his head. "Explains all the symptoms you´re having right now and we should get rid of it pretty soon with the medication you´re getting now I think. But really..:" there was a slight chuckle which Walter thought to be really out of place even though it possibly wasn´t. He merely didn´t like doctors. "That was one strange virus, Mr Bishop."

"Strange how?."

"It hit your immune system square in the back. You simply don´t have the antibodies which is bizarre. Considering."

"Considering what?" He could tell his patience was probably a little low.

"Lack of immunity to that virus has pretty much been eradicated from the gene pool for about 150 years, Sir. Have you been down in the southern hemisphere recently? The Latin American Federation possibly?"

He caught the oddity of that name but didn´t comment. Because right now that was not what was at the front of his mind.

"No…" he said instead. "I…I must have caught it here."

Again the chuckle. Friendly but ever so unnerving. However, the younger man´s eyes gave the flicker of alarm. "That´s impossible, Mr Bishop. Hardly anyone born in the last 80 years has not been immunised against it. Or been altered to eliminate the weakness right away and I would guess your age to be around… 65 maybe. That would make you someone that definitely has the immunity." There was something in the man´s words that rang a bell. An important one… For a moment Walter could tell what tune it was playing but then that slipped his grasp. "By the way, Mr Bishop." the doctor said in that chatty yet matter of fact voice, now moving to the foot end of Walter´s bed again, signaling that the checkup was about over. "We will have to talk about your data at some point. We could not trace any identification markers and the marker on your cash card yielded no results. It´s almost like you don´t exist. Can you tell me your date of birth, please? Just so we can get _some_ kind of record set up, since we need to countercheck your health account. The formalities, you know…"

By now, the man´s voice started to sound dull, muffled almost. Walter was feeling so tired. So dizzy. He knew that if he had not, he would have interrupted this young guy, would have asked, asked so many questions. But he couldn´t. Any attempt to even move much brought a sickening nausea.

"I was born…." There was that strange kind of curtain in his mind. Dark, threatening to swoop in and black him out again. "On June 3rd…in ´48…" It was probably the medication…whatever they were giving him must be strong…The doctor´s voice sounded like something dulled by cotton wool. "´48? Mr Bishop I know the drugs are working but do think hard. When did you say you were born?" This time the words were each pronounced individually. Like he was some kind of idiot. It made him angry. That was the way they had talked to him. Back at the place he didn´t want to think about any more.

"Who do you take me for?" despite the slowing effect of whatever they had given him, his voice sounded surprisingly snappy. "Of course it was ´48. The 3rd of June,...´48."

And with that blackness descended.

The next time he awoke, the light in the room was different and he noticed quickly that this was because there was now sunlight out there. A new day. Or had he been sleeping longer? This time, he was not alone. There was a nurse checking on his vitals …at least he guessed her to be female from her frame…her face and body were covered in something that reminded him dimly of the garb that had been worn by 21st century scientists in cases of…quarantine. It wasn´t much of a surprise therefore that she was the only person present and that again, Michael was not there.

It was probably the drugs still tranquilizing him to some extent because otherwise he would surely have reached the end of his teacher by now, his instincts shaped by years in certain institutions taking over and he would just march out of this place and run, all carefulness forgotten. Because whatever was going on here was of no importance and with every day that passed, the window of possibilities would be shrinking.

"What in the world is this…" His voice still sounded somewhat strained and hoarse but better which meant it bore some authority and a grumpiness that, much to his satisfaction got him the nurse´s immediate attention. "Everything is all right Sir," the nurse assured him, raising one hand in a somewhat pacifying gesture, clearly because he had made a move to sit up. Which he did try before she gently but with determination pushed him back. "Stop that." He knew he probably sounded like a kid but he felt he had any right to. "What is all this about?"

"It is just a protective measure, Mr Bishop." she assured him. Her voice sounded somewhat altered behind her quarantine gear. "We need to isolate you in order to make sure the virus does not spread."

"The virus?"

"We have it under control, you will be fine in a few days, but we need to run some tests. We cannot risk an epidemic." Her voice was firm and insisting but he believed to sense some fear in it as well. "What about…"

"The boy is in another room, quarantined as well even though he is not infected, but he was with you. We need to make sure. We´re running a few checks on him, you needn´t worry."

Why, he wondered, why was it so infuriating and so exhausting to talk to these people? "This is just some kind of bug, there is not going to be an epidemic caused by it." Walter snapped back in another attempt at getting up, more insistently this time. "I probably just brought it here, this happens…" the look she gave him and he could tell that just by the way her eyes narrowed through the mask, were a glance of incredulousness. Just as if he had just claimed that something like the Black Plague just happened. But he wanted answers. He saw how she moved a hand but ignored it, tried to struggle free of this. "I demand to see Dr Singh, right now." Yes, his voice did sound authoritarian. See Singh, tell them to stop the nonsense and then get a flight right to Norway. There was no time to lose. Peter. He had to save Peter. Olivia. To hell with the little dizziness of some stupid time travel induced bug.

But he didn´t get to complete his mission then. He could not even get up and belatedly realized the young woman had used a trick that he should have been prepared for. She would not physically fight him, they never did when they could avoid it. She had merely increased the dosage of whatever was flooding his veins. Sneaky. He could feel it coming like a wave, threatening to push him back into sleep. "You need to calm down, Mr Bishop. We will know more, soon, but you need to calm down." He hated that. He had heard it before. So often. But he did. Calm. Then sleep.

The last thought was his mind catching up on an earlier feeling. What were these fools thinking? An epidemic? It suddenly made sense…. This was nothing but merely his body reacting to unknown germs. The inoculations…he had not done them all before leaving for this, becaue… Donald. Back in the lab. Donald had done them instead in his attempt to cheat him out of his fate. Donald…


End file.
